


it's nice to have a friend

by carefultrash



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi has a Phd, Cuddles, Kinda Fluffy, Kuroo is very tired, M/M, Making Out, Old Friends, Rare Pair, Sexy Times, blurred boundaries, but like passionately platonic you know?, comfort in understanding, everything else is stupid, friendship is good, platonic BokuAka, platonic kuroken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 10:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30087858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefultrash/pseuds/carefultrash
Summary: In many ways, Kuroo is the only person who can truly understand Akaashi and his budding loneliness. It fills him with surprising warmth to realize this now, as he sits there looking at Kuroo lounge before him with total ease. They really are old friends.orAkaashi and Kuroo have an existential crisis together.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	it's nice to have a friend

**Author's Note:**

> what can i say, I love kuroo and hoodies and kuroo in a hoodie.

_No one has imagined us. We want to live like trees,_   
_sycamores blazing through the sulfuric air,_   
_dappled with scars, still exuberantly budding,_   
_our animal passion rooted in the city._

– Adrienne Rich 

*

No matter how hard he tries, Akaashi does not feel relieved. He understands he should be proud, he knows he has worked hard, he recognizes that his efforts have borne fruit. But after four years of dragging himself through the unrelenting chaos of his PhD coursework, holding the degree in his hands feels so shockingly meaningless he doesn’t even know how to articulate his disappointment.

It’s like he destroyed himself through his twenties over nothing but a cruel game of significations, for a frivolous piece of paper to dispassionately declare him successful with literally _no_ emotional catharsis at the inherently disorienting age of twenty-seven. The hurricane of angst in his gut has been devastating his sensibilities since the end of the graduation ceremony and he really has no concept of it ever ending. The dull chant of _why am I not feeling what I am supposed to be feeling?_ disrupts every trajectory of affirmative thought he dares embark on and his emotions are so ridiculously urgent and oppressive that he feels like he could explode any moment. 

But regardless. He is _Doctor_ Akaashi Keiji now and he is supposed to be celebrating it.

And he is trying to, he really is. Affectionately squished under Bokuto’s strong arms, surrounded by beaming friends and hot food and alcohol in the comfort of Kenma’s giant house, Akaashi is aware of what a good time this is supposed to be. He is also aware of being way off the mark in aligning his mindset with the many “supposed to” situations he has been finding himself in lately.

So he is drinking steadily to hit that point of involuntary relaxation at which he can respond appropriately to the energy of the room and at least _look_ like he is excited to be there. But the drunker he gets the more exhausted he feels and the lesser he talks. He is viscerally conscious of how distraught he appears to others as well. Kenma has been glancing at him over his game the entire evening and Bokuto has an oddly protective grip on his shoulders even as he laughs raucously at the bizarre discussion Atsumu and Hinata are having with Kuroo about taming persistent cowlicks.

Akaashi feels guilty about how much he just wants to go home and curl up under a blanket and zone the fuck out until further notice. He hates that the last thing he wants right now is to be perceived, benevolently or otherwise, even though this evening is about him and everyone has made special time in their busy days to come see him and this is supposed to be the moment he was supposed to look forward to for five fucking years goddammit. He resents the total absence of euphoria in his system, he detests the way his thoughts feel inside his head, he can’t believe how painfully banal this huge milestone in his life is actually turning out to be, and he just wants to scream into the abyss about the weight of this unbearable dullness until it somehow withers and vanishes.

Of course it’s when he is at the peak of his extraordinary sulk that the conversation turns to him. Of course it’s Bokuto controlling the flow of attention in the room. Of course it’s an adorable display of pride in his best friends success. 

“Oh oh Akaashi!! Kaaaaashiiiii I’m so proud of youuuuuu!! You’re so smart and I love you SO MUCH!! SO MUCH!!!!” he exclaims, enveloping Akaashi in a bone-crushing hug. Akaashi attempts a smile while his stomach wavers with apprehension. It seems like Bokuto had just remembered the reason they had all met up for the evening and is getting ready to show him off to the best of his monstrous abilities.

“Thank you, Bokuto-San,” Akaashi says stiffly, wary of everyone’s eyes on him and his own unchecked drunkenness. “I wouldn’t have been able to manage it without your support.”

Bokuto grins so widely at him that his heart sinks with an entirely new pull of dejection. “No, no, you totally would have! You are literally the smartest person I know and you worked so hard and you deserve this so much and I am so happy for you!!!!” Everyone at the table takes this proclamation as a cue to start patting Akaashi on his back and cheering lightly. 

But all Akaashi feels is an unexpected flash of rage at Bokuto’s use of the word “deserve”. As the havoc of his internal monologue overrides any sense of propriety, he contemplates despite himself: Is he supposed to feel like he “deserves” anything just because he was able to survive his degree on the fumes of old passions he isn't even sure he has anymore? What did “deserve” mean anyway? So many of his colleagues had to drop out of their programs because of financial problems that were absolutely not their fault. Did they “deserve” that? He sure as hell didn’t “deserve” the emotional breakdowns he withstood to make absurd deadlines after sleepless nights of frenzied work and gallons of nerve-jangling caffeine. Nobody “deserved” anything in a world as broken as theirs.

“I don’t think this is about me deserving anything as much as it’s about me managing to destroy myself in a way that has led to an admirable consequence,” Akaashi blurts out coldly before he even knows what he is saying.

“Huh? What do you mean, Akaashi?” Bokuto’s smile falters. 

And just like that, the room transforms into another place altogether.

Hinata looks extremely confused and starts whispering something in Atsumu’s ear who shrugs vaguely and says “I’m too drunk for this”. Kenma stares at Akaashi so intensely, his old DS almost slips out of his hands. Bokuto wears an expression of heartbreakingly sincere worry, making the silence that follows feel infinitely worse with his mood-setting presence. Akaashi feels embarrassment burn his stomach and reprimands himself inwardly for the wreckage of his thoughts, all while trying very hard to look composed. _What the fuck was that?_ He squirms in place as he comprehends the gravity of his own statement. But before he can think of something to say, his eyes arbitrarily meet Kuroo’s and his train of thought hurtles off track and straight into an ocean of inebriated disorientation.

Kuroo is looking at him strangely, a startled sort of amusement lighting up his face, the corners of his mouth tugging at a laugh he desperately doesn’t want to let out. Akaashi is accustomed to this face, having been friends with Kuroo since high school and knowing intimately how much he enjoys aggravating his friends for kicks.

He frowns. _Was there something funny about any of this?_

But then Kuroo is raising his beer glass to say “Cheers to destroying ourselves with admirable consequences then!” and making a show of chugging the entire glass in one go, prompting Hinata to make an excited noise before joining him immediately while the rest of the table watches them, slowly catching up to the rapidly transforming cues of the atmosphere.

“Kuroo, stop attention-seeking, it's Akaashi’s day,” Kenma says drily and finally looks back at his game. He is definitely going to have a talk with Akaashi later.

“What? How am I seeking attention? It’s not my fault only Hinata had his drink after I explicitly said cheers. It’s also not my fault that I am so cool that I naturally attract attention.” 

And with that, the room eases into its original state of social relaxation. Kuroo and Kenma start arguing half-heartedly and the others gladly take it as permission to resume their own conversations, completely forgetting the disruptive tension of the previous moment. Akaashi wonders fleetingly if Kuroo was making fun of him, but he feels so grateful for the distraction he decides not to dwell on it if that’s the one hole of pointless thinking he can avoid.

He drinks more and enters an inane discussion with Atsumu about his university campus that lasts long enough for everyone to be drunk enough to not care about any kind of coherent talk altogether. He leans on Bokuto’s shoulder sleepily and holds his hand until people start leaving the table.

He thinks about how much he loves Bokuto. He thinks about the strange light in Kuroo’s eyes. 

*

Once Bokuto gives him his final hug of the day and goes to sleep in one of the many rooms in Kenma’s house, Akaashi nestles onto a big, squishy sofa in one of the smaller nooks of the property and tries to gauge the degree of his intoxication. He knows he craves physical contact when he is very drunk so based on how much he was clinging to Bokuto all evening, he concludes that he is pretty out of it. His head feels a little empty and he pulls the sleeves of his sweater over his hands in preparation of nodding off when he hears the click and turn of a doorknob and a cold gush of wind washes over him.

He knows who it is before opening his eyes and proceeds to follow the trail of Kuroo’s tall, lean silhouette as he walks into the dimly lit room and settles down next to him on the sofa, making Akaashi bounce slightly as he makes himself comfortable. Akaashi waits for him to speak.

“Hi,” Kuroo says, shoving his hands down the front pockets of his old black hoodie. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about what you said today. At dinner, I mean.”

Akaashi nods stiffly. “It felt like you had something to say about that”

Kuroo pins him with a strangely intense gaze. “Okay, so I guess I’ll just get right to it then,” he takes a deep breath, “So I quit my job last week. Only Kenma knows. I didn’t want to bring it up until your graduation party because like, I didn’t want to steal your thunder and stuff. But then today you were so aloof and looked so tired and then you said _that_ and it felt really familiar to how I have been thinking lately and I just thought maybe we could talk, you know? It’s been a while since we spent time together anyway.”

 _It felt really familiar? So Kuroo agreed with him?_ Akaashi suddenly feels like he wants to cry. “I am sorry to hear that, Kuroo-san. Sure, we can talk. How would you describe the way you have been thinking lately?”

“Oh, like I spent my entire adult life working towards something I literally don’t care about at all,” Kuroo replies quickly. “Like everyone successful in this world who is not already my friend is a total piece of shit. Like there is nothing worth doing when you _really_ think about it and like everyone who thinks it's normal to sit at a desk for ten hours a day making spreadsheets about useless shit is actually insane.”

Akaashi feels very awake as he listens to Kuroo being articulate in the way only angry people are. He always knew Kuroo had a temper, but it had not occurred to him that it could exist off of the volleyball court, let alone in the repressed contexts of corporate work culture. He smiles fondly, as if remembering an old friend, and decides he wants to tell him about the monster writhing in his own belly. “Insane is correct. As soon as I got my degree, I realised I had been deluding myself into believing it would make me feel anything. I’m just tired, really, that’s all I know right now. All through dinner today I wanted to leave the party and go to my room to do nothing and I kept feeling bad about that as well.”

Kuroo laughs so unabashedly at his confession that Akaashi feels an odd thrill flood into his body all at once. “I totally called it! You looked so grumpy! And yeah I get it, of course, I’m really tired too. It was so funny what you said about destroying yourself admirably though, like yeah, that’s exactly it. Everyone was being all weird about it, but it’s just the truth of the matter. You’re basically failing if you’re not destroying yourself over something stupid all the time and then it all goes _nowhere_ and then one day you just up and die _.”_

Akaashi finds himself nodding. “Pretty much. And I don’t really regret the work I did but I don’t know what to do with the person I have had to become after going through this…experience.”

Kuroo snorts. “You know, I only began feeling like a person after I quit. I don’t even know what I was doing all day at that stupid fucking job, it was so annoying. Doing nothing all day feels more honest, at least. I have actually lost the ability to tell whether I like it or not. I don’t know, I just want to hang out with Kenma.”

 _I just want to hang out with Kenma_. Akaashi understands that urge somewhere deep in his bones. If he had ever been given the practical option to survive on just watching Bokuto live, he knows he would have packed all his bags and travelled with him wherever he went for volleyball and simply existed in the shade of the one passion in his life that never left: being close to the eternal fire that was Bokuto’s mere existence. He would never admit to it because of how pathetic it sounds, but he knows in his gut that it is the unbridled truth.

He also knows that Kuroo and Kenma have something between them that is as intense as what he shares with Bokuto, although it looks and feels fundamentally different. He knows, for instance, that Kuroo would never be happy again if Kenma lost himself, that he builds up every possible hope in his heart around Kenma’s continuous presence in his life, that he affirms his own humanity in the consistent love he feels for Kenma, that nobody will ever matter to him more than Kenma does.

On the coldest of their ordinary days, if famous pro volleyball player Koutarou Bokuto is a furnace for Akaashi to huddle close to, then millionaire gaming YouTuber Kenma is a favourite blanket from childhood Kuroo can engulf himself in.

Akaashi feels a special camaraderie with Kuroo as he considers this. They are both chronic admirers, aren’t they? Loyal spectators, protagonists by proxy, diehard fans of exceptional friends who make their lives worth living. And now they are both failing at being well-adjusted in the normal world together, a world neither Bokuto nor Kenma will ever have to bother with but which Akaashi and Kuroo are destined to withstand until the end of their lives. A world of scheduled trains and constant boredom and economic precarity and dwindling meanings.

In many ways, Kuroo is the only person who can truly understand Akaashi and his budding loneliness. It fills him with surprising warmth to realize this now, as he sits there looking at Kuroo lounge before him with total ease. They really are old friends.

“I just want to hang out with Bokuto-san, too,” Akaashi says quietly. “And you too. It really has been a while.”

Kuroo smiles at that and reaches out to punch Akaashi lightly on his shoulder. “Yeah, I missed talking to you.”

Akaashi swallows down a whirl of emotions. “How did Kenma react to you quitting?”

“I mean, it’s Kenma, you know. He saw it coming from miles away, so when I finally took the leap he just listened to me talk for a while and then invited me to come stay with him.” He shakes his head fondly and snorts. “I think he just wants me to live off of him forever now since he is so rich and the world is so irritating.”

Akaashi smiles. “That sounds like as good a life as any.”

“Yeah, right? But I’m too used to being in charge of things, my brain doesn’t chill super well. So I guess I will have to figure something out eventually.”

“It’s good that you have Kenma until then, though," Akaashi sighs. "It’s nice to have a friend in times like these. I wouldn’t have managed to finish my thesis if Bokuto-san wasn’t flying back to Japan every few months and staying with me.”

Kuroo looks at him from the corner of his eye “You really love him, don’t you?”

“Probably more than you love Kenma,” Akaashi says without missing a beat.

“That’s literally impossible!” Kuroo laughs, taken by surprise. But then he reaches out a hand to ruffle Akaashi’s hair and looks at him with soft eyes. “But probably just as much.”

Akaashi feels his stomach lurch and takes the hand petting his head into his own and intertwines their fingers casually. “Yeah, probably. But I definitely hate everything else as much as you do.”

Kuroo smiles and closes his eyes, leaning his head back on the sofa to bare the line of his throat. He looks like a content, oversized cat. He doesn’t let go of Akaashi’s hand.

They sit like that for a while, quiet and lost in the peace of the moment.

And then Akaashi recalls Kuroo’s reaction at the table when he had said his overdramatic line and thinks of how he had found that funny. Imagining how amused he must have been, Akaashi feels his own shoulders begin to shake with the beginnings of a hysterical laugh. “Hey, Kuroo-san, can I tell you a secret?”

“Hmm? Of course,” Kuroo says as he opens his eyes and turns lazily to face Akaashi.

Akaashi makes it a point to look at him very seriously before he continues. “I want you to know that I really, really want to slap my thesis supervisor at least once in my lifetime.”

Kuroo’s eyes widen as he stares at him dumbstruck. 

And then they are both laughing, so hard that their stomachs are hurting and their eyes are tearing up, so hard that Akaashi almost forgets how he usually laughs, so hard that it feels like all that’s left of him is an echo of this breathless, wheezing immaturity.

This was what it should have felt like to get his degree. _This_ felt like something real, this flow of honest pettiness between two friends at the end of a stupid party. This comfort, this relief, this shared awareness of the meaninglessness of everything else but their aligned frustrations _._ This unmatched exhilaration of being truly understood.

Kuroo had reached out to tug at him at some point during the course of their synchronised fit and pulled him around, messing with his hair and burying that impossible bedhead of his into Akaashi’s arms. They were trying to be quiet with their uncontrollable sounds but it was so futile, it was actively making everything seem even more hilarious. But once Akaashi manages to calm down a little bit and get his bearings, he realises that he is almost sitting on Kuroo’s lap, the fabric of his hoodie cool and soft against his body, his hand resting loosely at Akaashi’s waist.

Kuroo is still laughing with his head thrown back, carefree and caught in the reverberations of his own shaking body. Akaashi experiences an influx of overwhelming tenderness as he watches him. Kuroo looks so young and happy, he smells so good, his body is so comfortable and warm, he is such a good friend. Akaashi feels heady and reckless and catches himself entertaining the impulse to grab Kuroo’s face and kiss that laugh out of his mouth and into his own. He wonders thickly if he wants to make out with him so badly all of a sudden because he is still drunk and feeling tactile as per usual or because it’s stupid Kuroo and his stupidly loveable personality that has endeared him beyond the possibilities of their pre-established boundaries. 

Akaashi is surprised to realise that he honestly doesn’t really care. It’s Kuroo. He does outrageous stuff all the time. One time he had a full-on make-out session with Bokuto over an ironic dare. If this is a bad idea, they will just talk about it later and work it out. How embarrassing could it even be? What will he do, laugh at Akaashi? Make jokes about how Akaashi finds him attractive? Pfft, so what if he does. It’s too easy to annoy Kuroo for any of his provocations to hold any power over him.

And so with the least consideration Akaashi has afforded to any decision all year, he swoops forward and presses his mouth against Kuroo’s after throwing his arms around his shoulders

Kuroo makes a muffled sound and his body stills for a second, caught off guard, but his hands around Akaashi’s waist press hard with an instinctive grip. Akaashi just closes his eyes and tugs at his lower lip wilfully, tightening his hold around Kuroo’s neck, trying to communicate how much he really wants to do this. He moves his mouth, melting shamelessly into the wet softness of Kuroo’s lips and pushes his body onto his with confidence. It’s not long before he feels Kuroo’s arms wind around him firmly as he kisses Akaashi back, groaning and pushing him on his back to loom over him and then descend onto his body.

Akaashi feels Kuroo’s hands drag over his torso loosely before he leans forward to kiss him, languidly settling into a rhythm of moving lips and shifting skin. It almost feels choreographed in its practised confidence. He pulls at Akaashi’s lower lip as he moves a hand up his spine, he sucks at it purposefully as he grabs his hips with broad palms, he slides his tongue into Akaashi’s mouth as he pushes a knee between Akaashi’s thighs.

Kuroo, it turns out, is annoyingly smooth.

Akaashi matches him carefully. It feels like a dance, the snaking of his arm around Kuroo’s neck with his fingers tugging at his tousled hair, the slipping of his hand under Kuroo’s hoodie with its slow trail up his stomach, the strategic opening of his mouth for Kuroo’s insistent tongue to roll against his own. Akaashi gets lost in this game of coordinating sensations, eagerly following the lead of Kuroo’s touch, instinctively timing his reactions to his fluid advances. It becomes evident that he had wanted to make out with Kuroo because of the man’s personality and not because he was drunk after all. This, whatever this was turning out to be, was _way_ too sophisticated for drunk him to pull off, too alert for two intoxicated people getting handsy after a party.

This was intelligent and active and deliberate _._ It was an uncanny ebb and flow.

Kuroo breaks their kiss to drag his tongue down Akaashi’s throat, lingering and slow and wet. Once he reaches his collarbones, he trails his lips before sucking hard at the base of Akaashi’s neck, eliciting an embarrassingly loud moan. He feels Kuroo’s lips curl into a sly smile against his skin and knows there is no point in hoping he would let _that_ go without comment. This was simply the price of fooling around with Kuroo Tetsurou and enjoying it too much.

“Oho Akaashi, I see that you’re having a good time,” Kuroo murmurs against the edge of his jaw, obviously teasing.

“Please don’t kill the mood, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi sighs as he tangles his fingers in Kuroo’s hair and tugs at it in annoyance. Kuroo lets out a playful laugh before raising his head to look down at Akaashi with a glint in his eyes.  
  
“And what mood is that? Two hot, angsty losers with insane sexual chemistry hooking up to avoid their existential crises?”

Akaashi lets out a surprised laugh. Of course Kuroo had noticed. “We really do have great sexual chemistry,” he replies.

“Right?! Who knew?” Kuroo says happily, pushing his hand under Akaashi’s shirt and stroking the skin above his abdomen. “I always thought you were super pretty but you’re like, _so_ good? At sexy things? We should do this all the time.”

It’s scary how nothing about the situation feels awkward to Akaashi. He doesn’t feel like clarifying any expectations Kuroo might have and he doesn't care that he has no idea what he wants himself. All he knows is that Kuroo is with him in a way he wants to hold on to for as long as he can.

 _What’s the point of making everything mean something when nothing matters anyway?_

“Yes, we should. We will definitely discuss it later. For now, can we continue with what we were doing, please?” Akaashi says almost impatiently. Kuroo ducks his head to seductively whisper in Akaashi’s ear “And what was that again? I seem to have forgotten. I think it involved you making a really weird sound after I–”

He stops speaking and inhales sharply as Akaashi hand darts down to palm his crotch in one swift motion.

“You were saying, Kuroo-san?

Kuroo looks at Akaashi’s face in shock. Akaashi promptly raises his eyebrows and glares at him patronisingly. Neither of them moves for a second, and then Kuroo collapses on Akaashi’s body with his face on his sternum, laughing in disbelief. “Ah, our sweet Akaashi can _really_ get it, huh?” He says breathlessly.

Akaashi can’t help but smile. Looking at Kuroo grin so openly, he feels as if he was sixteen again and merely fooling around with a seventeen-year-old version of the man during one of their training camps. But when he thinks of them today, being honest and stupid in each other’s arms like this, he feels the intuitive cleverness of experience in the way they explore and entertain each other too– so relaxed in their bodies and so uncaring of hesitations in the aftermath of becoming well acquainted with the absurd grind of living.

Somehow, talking and making out with Kuroo, Akaashi feels like he recognises himself for the first time in a while. He thinks of volleyball matches in high school, of him as the resourceful setter of Fukurodani’s powerhouse team with Bokuto as its shining star. He remembers how it felt to be totally absorbed in the heat of a compelling game with a worthy opponent.

He thinks of practice matches with Nekoma as he anticipates Kuroo’s friendly hands on his body, he thinks of Kuroo as the captain of the frustratingly shrewd team as he feels his head nestling affectionately on his chest. He thinks of them spending all that time together trying to get better at a game they cared so deeply about. He thinks of cold watermelon slices after exhausting days of unstoppable effort.

_Why can’t it always be that simple?_

“Kuroo-san…Kuroo.” Kuroo raises his head quickly as he hears Akaashi drop the honorific, an awed expression on his face. He has been trying to make him stop with the ‘-san’ for years now.

“Woah Akaashi, if I knew all it took to make you call me that was some kissing and groping, I would have done this years ago.”  
  
Akaashi rolls his eyes. “You missed your chance, then.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies earnestly. “I really did, huh?”

Akaashi blushes at his tone and looks into his eyes with a new flutter in his chest. Kuroo studies him intently, bringing a hand up to stroke Akaashi’s cheek. “Anyway. You were saying?”

“Oh. Yes.” Akaashi clears his throat, trying to deal with Kuroo’s suddenly deep gaze. “Kuroo. Do you want to sleep here today? There is enough space for the two of us and your clothes are really cosy and we can…do this some more.”

Kuroo shrugs and rolls himself off Akaashi to snuggle into him on the sofa, pulling him close so that their noses are pressed together. “Sure. Do you want to make out some more? Or do you want to tell me about your PhD?”

Akaashi stares at him. “Why would I want to tell you about my PhD?”

Kuroo pecks his mouth quickly before speaking against his lips. “I don’t know, sounds like it was stressful as fuck. But it must have been really interesting if you did it all the way, right? And you’ve never really told me about it properly so I was wondering what–”

Akaashi feels a surge of immense gratitude at Kuroo’s interest and interrupts him with a kiss before replying. “Alright. I will tell you about my PhD. In great detail, if you’d like. I don’t know if it’s interesting anymore but I can go on about it forever, so it’s good we have the whole night. But first I think we should cuddle.”

“Yeah, okay.” Kuroo nudges Akaashi’s temple with his nose and shifts so that Akaashi’s head rests on his arm and faces Kuroo. “Cuddling it is.”

Akaashi buries his head in Kuroo’s chest and inhales deeply, the musky smell of his body washing over him like the afterglow of a good nap. “Kuroo, you’re so good.” His muffled voice vibrates on the fabric of his perfectly warm hoodie. 

“Hmm, you too Akaashi, you’re the best,” Kuroo mumbles as he cradles Akaashi’s head with one arm and strokes his hair with another, coarse fingers running over his scalp slowly as the hot skin of his cheek rests on his forehead. “I’m really happy we did this today. I love talking to you and I _really_ love kissing you.”

“I love talking to you too. And you’re very hot.”

Kuroo snickers and bites at his earlobe idly. Akaashi feels so safe, he wants to snuggle further and further and further until he is completely absorbed in Kuroo’s comforting existence. _Kuroo is a great friend and the best kisser and he wants to listen to me talk about my PhD._ The thought swirls in his mind pleasantly and Akaashi wants to mimic the pace of Kuroo’s breathing and fall into a meditative trance. He wants to steal his fucking hoodie and live in it until its gross and battered.

He wraps his hands around Kuroo’s lean torso and squeezes tightly, pushing his face into his beating heart and pulling his legs under his own in a fervour of physically compelling affection. Kuroo laughs indulgently and reacts with his entire body, cocooning Akaashi with his long limbs and nuzzling his neck with a happy sigh. “You’re so cute I’m going to die.” 

Akaashi smiles and shifts himself to kiss Kuroo’s lips delicately before lowering his head to his chest again.

“Hey, Kuroo,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“We really are going to do this all the time now, okay?”

He feels Kuroo’s exhale of a laugh on his brow. “Yeah, whenever you want. I could seriously do this forever.” He presses his lips on Akaashi’s forehead.

Akaashi hums. “Me too. If only we could make a living out of this.”

**Author's Note:**

> and that was me coping with my twenties!! i hope this felt like a hug


End file.
